Lonely
by thamockingjayandpeeta
Summary: Just a one-shot of Gale & Johanna, & how they might have hooked up. Though I absolutely LOVE Peeta & Katniss, every now & then I like to write about Gale & Johanna, b/c I like them together.


This story will feature references from my other account, themockingjayandpeeta from the story Real and Unwritten Moments. I forgot my account email so I had to make a new one.

Of course, I don't own Hunger Gamees

It's taken me years to forget about Katniss.

I never _really_ forgot about her. How can I? Even if she wasn't on television every now and then with an updated report on how she's helping rebuilding District 12. It was hard to completely forget about her when I was told that the bakery had been rebuilt, and was even more successful than before. Even if the announcement of her engagement—her _real_ engagement—wasn't being talked about on every gossip station I wold have remembered. Every time Cinna's old team made their way to 12 for a dress fitting, or her mom traveled from 4 to 12, they were talking about her.

So no, I never really forgot her.

I had learned to live without her, though.

It took a good year, and if it hadn't been for her—the _other_ her in my life—who knows what would have happened? I'd probably still be just as depressed, just as miserable as I was when I got to 2.

When she came it was a pleasant shock. I'd been in 2 for about six months, more alone than I cared to admit, even to myself. I was Commander now, worshipped like a hero with a two hundred-man team under me. I didn't have _time_ to be lonely. I kept extremely busy in order to keep my mind off of everything and off of everyone.

I kept myself isolated because I wasn't sure if I deserved friends and happiness or a life. I did my job, and part of that job meant keeping an update on Katniss. I had spies in every District. The one in 12 sent me weekly reports. Katniss was still taking Prim's death very hard. Her mother had moved to 4 and the two grieved in similar fashion. Katniss barely ever left the house. If she did, it'd be go and visit Haymitch.

Haymitch. I wasn't sure how I felt about Haymitch. I'd worked with him in 13 for a while, and I couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't really like me. His loyalty was to Katniss and Peeta, and I never knew if it was because he genuinely liked them together or if me being with Katniss threatened the overall plan. Either way, it was him who had put the idea of the star-struck lovers into Katniss' head. It was because of him that Katniss loved Peeta.

Peeta. Everything in me wanted to hate him. It's wrong, I know. All he did was fall victim to Katniss, and I couldn't blame him for that. If what he had said was true in that cave a few years ago, he'd loved Katniss way longer than I ever had. Still, he'd never once made a move, and I had. So why should he still get her?

I'd saved his life once. I had volunteered to rescue him from the Capitol. Why? For Katniss? No. I never wanted him with Katniss. I wanted _me_ with Katniss. But I had rescued him because Katniss seemed lost without him. She put on a brave façade, but who knew her better than me? Well, Peeta probably did, but that's a story for a whole other day.

So yes, I went and saved Peeta from the Capitol, and for all the heroics, where did that get me?

Alone, in District 2.

I'd have been here alone even if Prim hadn't been killed.

Katniss didn't blame me. That was fine. I spent my waking thoughts blaming myself. She was disappointed in me, though, in my roles, in my actions. She hadn't realized what I was capable of. _I _hadn't realized what I was capable of, until what I had planned went into action.

Ultimately, I was extremely lonely for those first six months.

Then… she came.

I wasn't there when she stepped off the hovercraft. I knew of her arrival, of course. When a former Victor was coming to town, it was big news. When a former Victor was _moving_ to town, it was national news. I'd gotten the news straight from the mayor on the day the letter arrived.

"Johanna Mason wants to move here," he had told me, and I blinked in surprise. "You two are familiar with each other, are you not?" I nodded. "If she comes, and I think she will, I'll ask you to handle her."

"Handle her, Sir?" Johanna Mason couldn't be _handled_. She was unstable. "What do you mean?"

The mayor smiled at me. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

I was a soldier, so I took orders, even if I was confused. Still, I couldn't make it to her landing, but I did meet up with her for lunch, an hour after she arrived. I'd had a driver drop her off at one of our finest hotels in town—paid for by the Capitol—until we found her a suitable place.

When she arrived at the restaurant she looked… better than I'd ever seen her. Her hair was shorter, and she was clean. She was taller than I remembered, and she looked healthy.

I stood up and smiled at her, wondering why my heart was hammering the way it was.

"Gale fucking Hawthorne," she said with a wry smile. "I heard you'd moved to 2."

After that, I realized she was still the same Johanna, and my nerves settled.

(((())))

She was easy enough to get along with now that war no longer threatened us. She found an apartment not far from mine about a month later, and once she was officially moved in, my duties were done.

However, over the past month, we'd grown quite friendly towards each other, and we made plans for the following week to meet up for drinks after work.

When I got home that night, for the first time in a month, I was able to think, really think, about Kantiss again. I'd been so busy with work and Johanna that by the time I'd gotten home I fell right to sleep.

I ignored the part of me that that reminded myself some of those nights I was thinking of Johanna. I wasn't ready for what that meant yet.

It didn't take long for Johanna and I to develop a routine. Friday nights we went to the bars and got piss faced. It was a way for us to get things off of our minds, make ourselves go numb for a few hours.

I thought I had it bad, but my pain paled in comparison to Johanna's.

Perhaps that's why she could drink me under the table.

There were many nights she couldn't make it home, so I drove her to my place and let her crash there. When this became a routine, I started to suspect that she was doing it on purpose. Perhaps she was as lonely as I was.

Some nights got a little tenser than others. On the nights she hadn't gotten so drunk that she'd pass out, she'd often wake up screaming from nightmares. Having dealt with this before with Katniss, I knew what to do.

The first night I climbed into her bed she tried to fight me. She was still half sleep, and she clocked me right in my eye. I had a black eye for three weeks. I didn't let her go, and eventually she calmed down. After that, whenever she had a nightmare, she hardly struggled when I comforted her. Some nights she wouldn't even wake up. She'd just thrash, toss, and turn, and I'd just hold her until she calmed down. It's like she started to recognize my scent.

Funnily enough we never slept together when we were drunk as sin.

No, we slept together when we were both one hundred percent sober. Only once. It was a night we'd never talked about. It'd been incredible, but when I woke up the next morning, she was gone. Sometimes I wondered if I had dreamt the whole thing.

I told myself it'd never happen again, but it would, and it did.

She'd been there about a year, and I'd gotten my weekly letter from my contact in 12. About two months ago I'd gotten a letter that told me that Peeta had finally returned to 12 from the Capitol.

In those two months, apparently, Katniss had gotten way better.

Since his return, she'd gotten better.

I looked at the letter in my hand, re-reading certain lines:

_She bakes him bread every morning._

_Some days they're inside for hours. The windows are open and you can hear the laughter. One day she was curled up next to him, his arms wrapped around her, her head on his shoulder_.

How could I still be jealous? It'd been a year. A year with absolutely no contact. I'd thought about writing her a few times, but what the hell could I really say? What if she never wrote back? I couldn't live with that….

When Johanna walked into my apartment I still had the letter in my lap. She was talking, but I wasn't listening. It wasn't until she lowered herself so that we were face-to-face that I even really notice her.

"Earth to Gale," she was saying. "The fuck has gotten into you?"

I stared at her, blinking. Without a word she grabbed the letter off my lap and read it. I didn't object. After reading the letter she sighed, let it float to the floor, and walked away.

She was upset, but I didn't know why. And I couldn't muster up the ability to care.

We didn't talk for two weeks after that. I'd attempted to, but she was ignoring me. I didn't put up much of a fight.

When a co-worker asked me what was wrong on that second week, I said nothing.

"Are you sure this has nothing to do with you and Johanna breaking up?" he asked.

"Breaking up? Johanna and I weren't together."

"Maybe that's the problem," he had told me wisely.

I brushed him off, but later that night I couldn't sleep. I just tossed and turned, trying to convince myself that Johanna wasn't into me. Why would she be? How much older was she than me, anyway?

I went to her place on that Friday. I banged on the door until it finally swung open. She stood there scowling, and for the first time I noticed how beautiful she was. Those dark brown eyes, lit up with the same kind of fire that tended to burn inside of me, shot daggers at him, and for one brief moment I was actually afraid.

"Wake up the whole fucking neighborhood, why don't you?" she snarled.

"Well it got you to open up, didn't it?"

"What do you want, Hawthorne?" She was challenging me. She seemed to be up for a fight.

"Can I come in?"

"No." She made to close the door but her wrath was no match for y strength. I stuck my foot through the door before she could close it and pushed the door aside. I slammed the door behind me, my temper escalating. She stared at me in shock.

"I tried to ask nicely."

"Get out."

"No." She looked like she wanted to hit me. Then, just as suddenly as the anger arose, it simmered down. She sighed, completely deflated, and walked towards her couch. I followed her and sat next to her. "Why are you mad at me?"

I expected her to deny it, which showed that I still really didn't know her. She did answer.

"Because you're weak." That accusation slammed into my gut.

"I've got at least two hundred men under me who'd beg to differ," I responded quite coldly and defensively.

She stared at me. "You're still in love with Katniss. It's been a year. A year and you still can't let her go." And that? That was like a knife in my heart. I couldn't respond. "You knew she loved Peeta. Why haven't you accepted it?"

"What's it to you?" I challenged.

"You think you're the only one who's lost someone they loved to someone else?"

"Who have you lost?"

"Finnick." She had responded before she could think about it, but once it was out, it was out.

"I didn't know."

"And neither did he. He loved Annie. And I wanted to see him happy. He was my best friend, and I loved him. More than myself. That's why I liked Peeta. He reminded me so much of myself."

That stung a little, as I felt that she and I were a lot alike.

"He had a medallion with your picture in it, you know," she told me. "Peeta had Effie get it for him. It was a picture with you, Prim, and Mrs. Everdeen. He told her to survive, so that she could get back to you." Johanna sighed. "I'd have done the same thing for Finnick," finished Johannan softly. Then she looked at me, her eyes blazing. "Forget her, Gale. Let her be happy." I didn't respond. What could I say? Then she leaned in towards me. "I can help you forget her."

Looking back I still don't know how it happened. One minute we were talking, the next minute we were kissing, and then we were naked.

It was better than I expected. Johanna was passionate, like she'd been that one other time, and I was pleased, and satisfied, as was she. We were hurting, and I wondered briefly if she was thinking of Finnick when I was inside of her.

It'd serve me right as I'd been thinking about Katniss when Johanna and I slept together for the first time.

When she called out my name though, I realized that no, she wasn't thinking about Finnick. She was thinking about me.

And I was thinking about her.

Afterwards I felt like a female. I was trying to figure out what the hell it all meant. Were we crazy?

After that we went back to our weekly shenanigans at the bar on Fridays. We still never talked about what happened, but a few weeks later, after leaving the bar, she asked me to come over. I looked at her, realizing she wasn't talking about for more drinks. Her face flushed as she waited for me to answer, and for the first time I realized how genuinely pretty she was.

I obliged.

By the time Katniss and Peeta's engagement—_real_ engagement—had reached national news, Johanna and I were consistently sleeping together. Even though we weren't together officially, somewhere along the way we had decided against seeing anybody else.

She did help me forget about Katniss. And I could only assume I helped her forget about Finnick and the Games.

When I got the invitation to Katniss' wedding, I had a brief relapse. I drove up to the forest, the one place Johanna and I went if we ever felt homesick. I didn't tell Johanna where I was going, but I was unsurprised when after a few hours she found me.

I never thought I'd love anybody other than Kantiss. I never thought she'd love anybody other than me. Yet here we were, moving on with our lives. Her and Peeta would be on television a lot more now than they had in the past year. They had been too damaged to be seen before. Now, though, it seemed as if they were healing,

So, like Johanna suggested, we would go to their wedding, because they were our friends.

And when I took Johanna home that night, and she was on top of me, riding me like a demon possessed, her hair, which had grown longer in the past year, falling around her face, I knew that this was right.

It was never what I expected. But this was right.

And the truth was, I was no lonely.


End file.
